


End Game

by Dekka



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Home, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 12:23:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13190025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dekka/pseuds/Dekka
Summary: It shouldn’t be so easy to change a family dynamic that’s been in the making for the last twenty years, but by eight pm Mitch and Breyana are dominating at Pictionary, up six points and slowly growing their lead.Aka: Auston brings Mitch home with him over their bye-week.





	End Game

**Author's Note:**

> Completely fictional, based on domestic bliss and head-cannons

Auston wakes up most days with a stuffy nose, freezing, the blankets held captive inches away, wrapped around Mitch. It’s a cruel taunt, warmth so close but yet so far away. 

Toronto air just never became home quite like Auston thought it would. 

Instead, he still finds himself sitting in sun spots, praying for a heat wave; praying for home. 

Marns always says home isn’t where you are, it’s who you’re with, but every time Auston tries to use that as an excuse to move back Mitch throws hands. He’s not that intimidating, barely pushing one-seventy, but Auston’s heard the phrase ‘happy wife, happy life’ too many times to doubt it’s truth, and even if Mitch isn’t his spouse, he’s _something_ , so he always lets the topic drop. 

***

It’s hot in Arizona like it’s cold in Toronto, a devil’s dance with the extreme end of each scale, and watching Mitch struggle under the heat feels more like home than any sub-zero temperature weather ever could. 

“It’s like hell on earth,” Mitch whispers, eyes sweeping the flat desert around them. They’ve only just stepped outside of the airport. 

“Tell me how you really feel,” Auston laughs. He barely has to glance back to know that Mitch is rooted to his spot, where he’s still able to feel the occasional gust of air-conditioning as people rush through the main doors to catch their flights. 

Even with Mitch’s near-endless complaining as they sign renter’s papers and walk to the car, it’s just- nice. Auston’s in his favorite place, with his favorite person, and he can't believe he just gets to have this. 

On top of everything else, it feels like too much. Like one person shouldn’t get to be great at the sport they love, drafted to a good team, making millions, _and_ be in love with their best friend. This kind of luck can only be explained by magic or something much, much greater. 

“Aus, I’m not kidding when I say this,” Mitch stops walking, refusing to get in the rental car, even when Auston nudges him forward, “but I’m really happy you brought me here.” 

They’re standing too close in the heat, Mitch’s teasing but genuinely happy smile growing as Auston flounders under the honesty. 

“I’m really happy you’re here too, Mitchy.” 

There’s a pressure in his stomach that feels warm and moldable, the edges of it dancing, brushing his chest as the feeling takes over. 

From there on it's like there’s a peaceful hum surrounding them, their hands carelessly intertwined against Mitch’s thigh as Auston drives. 

***

His parents love Mitch. It’s nearly impossible to not to, but Auston's still worried; he’s never brought anyone home before. 

“What do you want for dinner, Honey?” 

He’s halfway through gushing over his order when his Mom snaps at him, her look half-annoyed but also obviously pleased at his eagerness for her cooking. “I was asking Mitch,” she corrects, looking to him expectantly next. 

It’s nice to watch Mitch blush and stutter, unsure of himself for once. 

“Mom,” Auston calls, half laughing, to stop her from caging Mitch into a corner. He drags two chairs out at the breakfast counter, amused with the relief painted over Mitch’s face as he takes the offered seat. 

“I’m only being kind, Papi,” his Mom shrugs, overly innocent. Auston cant tell if it’s the nickname or her clear doting on them that has Mitch’s grin doubling. Under the counter he kicks at Mitch’s shins, only stopping once Mitch buries a kiss on the back of his hand. 

When he finally gets the guts to glance back up at his Mom, she’s smiling, a soft, fond thing that settles the rush thrumming through his system. 

***

Auston doesn’t expect the way Mitch blends into his family seamlessly. He expected some awkwardness, but it never comes, not even when Breyana asks where Mitch is sleeping. 

“Johnny isn’t allowed to sleep in my room when he visits,” she says, with a sickeningly sweet grin. Auston knows his sister’s boyfriend just waits till morning to go back downstairs to the couch after their “sleepovers.” 

He flicks his eyes to his parents, but they’re both amused by the argument, too smart to not know what their kids get up to under their own roof. 

“I suppose she’s right.” His Dad’s lips purse, but there’s mirth in his eyes. Against his will, Auston’s cheeks heat, especially when Mitch throws his hands up innocently. “I’m perfectly happy on the couch.” 

Crackling at Auston's embrasement, he knows that his family is enjoying this way too much. 

“No, no,” his Mom eventually says, once they’re cleaning up dishes, Auston washing and Mitch drying. “Mitchy can sleep upstairs, boys.” 

Breyana acts annoyed, muttering about special treatment, and ‘favorite child’ this and that, but their Mom snaps a towel at her, laughing as she shoos her out of the kitchen. She turns to Alex next, threatening holding up the towel. “Who’s the favorite?” Her eyebrows are raised, testing, but Alex just looks at Auston pointedly, “you love us all the same,” she mocks. 

When their Mom turns around she mouths ‘Papi’ at him, running from his reach before he can get his bubble-covered hands around her. 

The exchange leaves his Mom exasperated, bumping shoulders with Mitch. “Your family looking to adopt?” she teases. 

Mitch’s head throws back as he laughs, carefree, before he hands over the last of the dried dishes to Ema. "We're okay, thanks." 

***

In the morning they go hiking alone, more than ready to have time to themselves to decompress. 

They don’t even make it a mile in before Mitch is dropping down to the sandy desert ground, panting. 

“You okay, Gum-Drop?” It’s meant to be a chirp, but Auston calls Mitch too many sickeningly sweet pet names for his honest liking of them to be much of a secret. 

“It’s too hot,” Mitch whines. Even with sunglasses on, Auston can see the red of Mitch’s cheeks and shoulders, threatening a painful week ahead. 

“We should head back,” he decides, even when Mitch protests, feeling bad about ruining their adventure. He gives in pretty easily, though, once Auston mentions that they haven’t gone in the pool yet. 

***

It shouldn’t be so easy to change a family dynamic that’s been in the making for the last twenty years, but by eight pm Mitch and Breyana are dominating at Pictionary, up six points and slowly growing their lead. 

The timer runs out on Auston's drawing of a armchair, Alex grimacing at the doodle. It's not that bad. 

“Get your shit together,” he quotes as he re-caps the marker, throwing it to the table for the next turn. He’s just joking, but like, he refuses to lose to Breyana. That’s just embarrassing. She’s like a hundred years younger. 

“I don’t know, babe, you’re the one who guessed ‘avocado’ on what was clearly a sail boat.” Mitch is too comfortable on his high-horse, the six point lead making him cocky.

“Can I switch teams?” Alex begs, already moving next to Mitch on the couch. His Dad, flipping through the rule-book, shrugs, “it doesn’t say anything about terrible teammates.”

“I’m the best teammate,” Auston argues. He’s got millions of dollars in his bank account that would agree vehemently. Mitch just hums, placatingly, "okay, babe," sharing a look with Alex.

Auston should’ve never brought him here. He has enough people plotting against him as it is. 

***

“Tonight was fun.” Mitch is already in bed, under the blankets since Auston is cranking the air-conditioning for him. He considers turning it off altogether, faking an outage as revenge for his brutal Pictionary loss. 

Still, he tugs Mitch close when he gets into bed, trying his best to keep them both from falling off the space not meant for two fully grown guys. 

“I should’ve known you and my sisters would gain up on me.” 

Auston can tell Mitch is laughing from the shake of his shoulders. 

“Traitor,” he chirps. Mitch makes it up to him, but not before Auston runs to the door to make sure it’s locked. 

***

Having Mitch here, where he grew up, makes what they have feel deeper, so deep that Auston feels like he’s bulldozed his way through pay-dirt, eyes set on the horizon glazing the other size of the world. 

He wakes up first, on their last day in Arizona, long before the sun will fully be up, but he can't force himself to leave the bed. Mitch is curled around his favorite pillow, leaving them face to face with only their legs tangled, separated by sleep. 

There’s nothing but soft blue light to help him see, but Auston cant find the will to reach over to pull the blinds up. 

Between hours, light warming to a hue of gold, Auston tracks the shadow of Mitch’s eyelashes, fanned out across his cheeks. 

He gets the pleasure of watching those lashes flutter open, light dilating the pupils underneath. Mitch doesn’t register him, at first. He just blinks lazily, snuggling deeper into their nest of blankets. For once he hasn’t stolen all of them, content from the heat still finding ways to seep in. 

There’s nothing special about the day, but Auston knows he’ll never forget this moment, watching Mitch’s eyes dance around blearily until they settle on him. There’s a second more of blank serenity before a small smile breaks over Mitch’s face. 

“Good morning,” he croaks, hiding his blush in the pillow he was just snuggling. Auston knows then and there that he wants to wake up this way every morning for the rest of his life, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health. This is it for it for him.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments feed the writer :)


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